Bride To Be
by HP-Forever-XX
Summary: Entry for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition Forum, Round 10 (written on behalf of Chaser 2) - Gabrielle Delacour is having pre-marital nerves, and there's only one person who can can comfort her - her childhood friend, Dennis Creevey


**Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition - Round 10**

**Team: **Wigtown Wanderers  
**Position: **Chaser 2  
**Character: **Dennis Creevey  
**Additional Prompts: **Sentence:_ S/he tried to remember who had talked him/her into this,_ Dialogue: _"Er... I love you?"_ and Dialogue: _"I shouldn't have asked"_

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_**Author's Note: **I usually write for Beater 1, but am writing on behalf of our Chaser 2 as they had to pull out of the competition at short notice. The challenge was to write about a platonic relationship of our chosen team mascot (Ours is Dennis Creevey), and I was led to believe that a platonic relationship is basically a friendship between a male and female character, with no romance. Soooo hopefully that's what I've done, and I apologise if I've got it all horribly wrong!_

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**Bride To Be**

"Dennis, I'm scared," the petite French girl confessed when she was certain everybody else was out of earshot.

Dennis Creevey looked at her in astonishment as she stood before him. "Gabrielle, you're not scared of anything," he told her gently.

She didn't match his reassuring gaze. Instead she glared. "I'm always scared!" she cried, "It's my sister you're thinking of. She's the fearless one..."

But Dennis knew better. "Gabrielle Delacour, all these years I've known you I have never seen you back down in anything you face. You're braver than you can ever imagine. You _are _fearless." He wasn't entirely sure what he was saying, but Gabrielle needed a pep talk right now, and as he was the only one present, the responsibility fell on his shoulders. She still looked incredibly anxious. "Your sister's day has come and gone. Today is all about you. It's your turn to get married."

She shakily ran her hands over the padded layers of her wedding dress, as though only just realising she was wearing it. "It's just all so real," she breathed out wondrously.

Dennis had never been to a wedding before. He'd never known anybody to get married. At least nobody who's wedding he would be invited to anyway. He wondered had he still been alive, if his older brother Colin would be married by now. Though who to, he couldn't possibly imagine.

He watched her silently as she strolled over to the full length mirror. It was all very intricate and elegant – as French as the girl that stood before it. Despite being a beautiful young witch (and how could she not be, considering she was ¼ veela?), Dennis had never really been attracted to Gabrielle. He recognised that she was very beautiful – flowing, silvery blonde hair, soft, flawless skin, and eyes as blue as the deepest ocean – but he couldn't find it in himself to love her. It was as though he were somehow immune to the effects of the veela in her.

And yet he was incredibly grateful for it, because she was one of the most honest and truest friends he'd ever had, having been fortunate enough to make her acquaintance when she stayed at Hogwarts during his first year – the year when her elder sister, Fleur Delacour, had competed in the Triwizard Tournament – and retain that friendship to the present day, a fair few years on.

"I don't know if I can do this," she declared, pulling at her hair nervously. Dennis wished somebody else was in the little bridal dressing room with them at that moment. He had no idea how to comfort a bride to be with pre-marital nerves! But he knew he meant the most to Gabrielle, of all her friends.

"Of course you can," he promised enthusiastically, "I mean, how hard can it be?" When she glared daggers at him, he held his hands up in mock defence, hastily adding, "Alright, ok! Maybe I shouldn't have asked!"

Her lips were still set tightly in an uneasy grimace as she stared at her reflection. "Today I'm making the decision to spend the rest of my life with this man. What if it's the wrong one?"

"But you know in your heart that you truly love him. You have done since the moment you met. At least, that's what you told me. I'm certain he's not the wrong man," he assured her softly, confidently, though truthfully he wasn't sure how well he was handling the situation.

"_No,_" she moaned. "Not the wrong man – the wrong decision! I know I love him. Of course I do! But what if it's too soon? What if we aren't ready for marriage? What if he doesn't love me at all!?"

"Then he's a fool!" he cried desperately. "Listen, Gabrielle," he ordered sternly, pulling her away from the mirror so she would look him in the eyes. "You don't have to do this if you really don't want to. There's still time. If you want to run, then run. I will cover for you. I will be there for you every step of the way, and support you in whatever decision you make," he promised. "But you and I both know that you _are _ready for this. It's ok to be scared, but you know deep in your heart that you want this, and you'd regret it if you missed this opportunity." He pressed his hands to the sides of her head, trying to steady her and give her the strength she so badly needed. "Deep breaths," he ordered.

She obeyed silently, breathing in deeply several times until her heartbeat seemed under control. When at last her body had stopped shaking, she closed her eyes, and pressed her hands to the sides of her head on top of Dennis'. "Thank you Dennis," she said softly. "You always know exactly what to say..."

Dennis felt relieved. He'd just been going with whatever had first sprung to mind, but perhaps that _was _the best way to handle the situation. After all, it had worked, hadn't it? He leant in close, brushing the top of her head lightly with his lips, breathing in the flowery aroma of whatever perfume it was she was wearing. They lingered like that for a second – a perfect moment – and then he released her, taking a step back to beam at her. "So," he asked, "you ready to get married?"

"Absolutely," she beamed, the life and energy back in her eyes once more. "Wait, what if I forget what I have to say?" she suddenly asked, panic gripping at her once more.

Dennis internally sighed. Just as he'd managed to get her to calm down... "Relax," he informed her. "How can you forget?"

"I've never gotten married before" she protested. "What am I supposed to say!?"

"Er... I love you?" he teased.

She glared at him with mock anger.

"Just say 'I do'. That's the most important part. If you get that bit right then nobody cares what you say for the rest of the wedding!"

She rolled her eyes at him. "I'll make sure I give you the same pep talk right before your wedding!" she joked. But there was no anger; only light-hearted adoration for the younger Creevey brother.

Just then, the distant, but unmistakable melody from an organ began to echo around the room. "I believe that's your cue," he told her with a friendly, reassuring smile. "You can do this," he said, one final time, as the uneasiness flitted back into her eyes.

Gabrielle began muttering underneath her breath, reassuring herself that she was fine, as she headed towards the door, her long train sweeping along behind her. "Thanks Dennis," she called back over her shoulder, returning his warm grin. "Thanks for everything."

And then she was gone; floating away like a delicate feather caught in a summer breeze. Almost too suddenly, Dennis realised he was probably supposed to be seated before Gabrielle walked down the aisle. Best not to upstage the bride at her own wedding... As he hastily ran for the door she'd just left through, he stopped abruptly as he too became entranced by the ornate mirror.

Wrinkling his nose in disgust at the awful, sickeningly frilly dress robes he was dressed in from head to toe, he tried to remember who had talked him into this. But his grimace melted into a smile as he realised the answer. He knew he would wear any number of ridiculous outfits if it made Gabrielle Delacour's wedding perfect. And maybe one day, she might just return the favour...


End file.
